


at your most beautiful

by TeresaChristina



Category: Fleetwood Mac (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Don't Like Don't Read, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, F/M, First Time, Life-Affirming Sex, One Shot, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, So Married, Working Out My Feelings Through Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 18:48:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17792774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeresaChristina/pseuds/TeresaChristina
Summary: She rests her palms on his bare shoulders, her voice dropping an octave. "Do you remember what we talked about the other night?"BN-era fluff and smut.





	at your most beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> real people. fake story. comments adored.

Stevie unlocks the apartment door, opening it slowly and becoming confused when she isn't instantly hit by a cloud of smoke and the sounds of stoned laughter and Led Zep. It was slightly concerning- what the hell had happened?

"Uh, hello? Anyone here?" she calls out as she steps into the empty living room. Someone had stacked all the magazines on top of the coffee table and even cleaned out all the ashtrays...was she even in the right apartment?

"I know, I know, but I gotta go," she finally hears Lindsey say as he takes a step out from behind the kitchen wall, pointing to the phone and mouthing 'my mom'. "I will...I promise. Tell everyone hi for me, okay? Love you too, Mom. Bye."

"Everything alright?" she asks after he hangs up, snaking one arm around his waist and kissing him on the cheek.

"Yeah, just the usual," he says. "When are you going to get a real job, when are you going to get married, maybe you'd be more successful if you cut your hair...you know. Mom stuff."

Stevie knew it well. Her folks called once a week, every Sunday morning, and it was the same conversation each time. She and Lindsey suspected that both sets of parents got together to compare notes and discuss how they could talk their wayward children into a more suitable living situation. "Is that why you cleaned up and kicked everyone out? Was she threatening to come down here?"

"Thank God, no. She says she's too afraid to see how we live."

"As she should be. But seriously, did you hit your head or something?" she jokes. "I mean, not that I'm complaining..."

"Nah. Just turns out that when there's no one else around, there's a lot less shit to pick up."

"Imagine that!"

He elbows her in the side, nuzzling the top of her head. "I knew you had tonight off, and since Richard's gone for the weekend...I figured you could use a break from the guys."

"Oh, is that all?" It was a rare occasion when she had the evening off _and_ didn't have to be back to work until the dinner shift the next day, so she had been hoping that she wouldn't have to spend the whole night surrounded by Lindsey's crew of overgrown frat boys. He was making connections, he said- but sometimes she just wished they'd connect at somebody else's place.

"I dunno- you got any plans?" Before she can say anything, she lets out a giant yawn, and he chuckles softly. "C'mon, let's go lie down. I'll come with you."

He guides her into the bedroom and kicks off his shoes before lying down on the queen-sized mattress in the corner, watching as she changes out of her work clothes and into one of his old raggedy shirts. "You don't have to stay with me if you don't want to...I know you're probably not tired and it gets so stuffy back here in the daytime..."

"Sssh. Just c'mere." Their bedroom only had one tiny window that did nothing to cool the room when the late afternoon sun was at its peak, and they hadn't had the funds to replace the fan after it had met an untimely demise during the last heatwave. But he knew that she wouldn't let herself sleep if she thought he was awake, no matter how exhausted she was, so he feigned tiredness and patted the spot on the bed next to him. "I'm fuckin' beat. Cleaning is hard work."

"You don't say." The corner of her mouth turns up in a smile as she lies down beside him, head resting in the crook of his arm. "Sorry...maybe I should've showered first. I know my hair smells like french fries, but I'm so..."

"S'okay. Just sleep," he tells her, and she's out before he can even finish his sentence.

\-------------------------

The sun has started to sink toward the horizon when she wakes up, the searing rays that were streaming through the window now replaced with a light breeze.

She hums contentedly and Lindsey closes his eyes, trying to pretend like he hasn't been watching her sleep for the last two hours. "Hey babe. You awake?"

"Yeah...feel better now?" he asks, lazily running his knuckles up and down her arm.

"I do, but now I'm _starving_. We were so busy today that I never got a break."

"There's still leftovers from yesterday in the fridge. Want me to put it in the oven and you can get showered while you wait?"

She pretends to think about it. "Do I trust you to not burn it?"

"Hey now. Who was the last one to leave the lasagna in for too long?" A few weeks prior, he'd returned from a quick trip to the gas station to find Stevie sound asleep in the living room armchair, oblivious to the scent of charred pasta wafting in from the kitchen. The smell had finally cleared a couple of days later, but he wasn't about to let her live that one down just yet.

"Are you ever gonna shut up about that?"

"Nope." He smirks, pulling her closer. "When we make it big, I'm hiring a chef and then neither of us will ever have to go near an oven again. We'll get a maid, too."

"So if you've got someone cooking and cleaning for you, what will you need me for?" she teased.

"Eh, I can think of a few things."

She arches an eyebrow at him. "Oh really?"

"Yeah...somebody's gotta do the laundry, right?"

"No way! That's your job." The little old couple who owned the laundromat on the corner doted on Lindsey like he was their own son, letting him use the machines for free and bringing him homemade food to eat while he waited. Stevie had gone in once and, despite introducing herself as his 'wife', didn't get the same red carpet treatment. 'They think I need a girl with childbearing hips, sorry,' Lindsey told her after his next laundry run.

"Yeah, I guess I _am_ pretty good at that whole laundry thing."

"After I had to teach you how when we moved here, because your mommy wasn't around to do it for you anymore!"

He swats at her ass playfully, laughing when she shrieks. "Go get showered. You smell like french fries."

\-------------------------

"Pace yourself with that, baby," Stevie warns Lindsey when she looks over her shoulder and sees a cloud of smoke rising up from above the living room couch. She finishes stacking the dinner dishes in the sink, deciding she'd deal with them later, and plucks the joint from his hands as she straddles his lap. "I have plans for you."

"Oh yeah?"

She nods, taking a hit and exhaling slowly. He got too lazy to fuck her when he was really stoned, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing, because in that state he was content to eat her out until she had to physically pull him off of her. But that's not what she wanted tonight, and she was afraid that she'd lose her nerve if she put it off until some other day.

He reaches for the joint but she bats his hand away, inhaling again and closing her eyes when she feels the effect start to hit her. "And what's your plan? Smoking my whole stash?"

"Being rude will get you nowhere," she says, breathing out the smoke one more time before passing it back to him. She rests her palms on his bare shoulders, her voice dropping an octave. "Do you remember what we talked about the other night?"

"Uh...you talk about a lot of shit," he says, his free hand curling around her hip. "Gonna have to be more specific."

"When we were..."

"Oh. Oh! You mean?" She nods, long blonde hair falling forward to hide the blush creeping up her neck. "I, um. I remember."

They had been on this very same couch, Stevie moving up and down on his cock at a leisurely pace when she leaned forward to kiss him. He had his hands gripping onto either side of her waist to steady her, just below her hips, and he let them travel lower until his fingers were massaging her ass in small circles.

"Fuck. That feels good." She straightened up a little, holding onto the arm of the couch. As she started moving again, his hands kept working inward until the tips of his fingers were nearing her hole, and he expected her to protest but she just kept letting out these soft contented sighs. Cautiously, he brushed his thumb over it and waited for her reaction. "Fuck!"

He felt her muscles clench down around him as her mouth fell open on a groan. "Is...d'you want me to stop?"

"No, God. Do that again."

He obeyed, gradually working up to sliding his thumb up and down the cleft of her ass before circling it around her opening, and he hadn't even touched her clit before she was shaking as she came and then collapsing on top of him. "Mmm. Steph."

"That was...wow," she said, humming in agreement. "Have you ever? You know..."

"Like, uh...like that?"

She propped her chin up on his chest, looking at him to see if they're on the same page. "Yeah. Like...the other way."

"I. No. Have you...?"

"No," she said, eyes wide as she shook her head at him. She seemed a little surprised by the question, even though she was the one who asked first, so he didn't bring it up again. Not because he wasn't interested, but because he didn't want to freak her out and he understood it was a totally different proposition for the person on the receiving end.

He assumed she either forgot about it or wanted him to forget about it. But here she was, nervously twirling a strand of hair around her finger as she stammers out "...because I, um. I mean, if you wanted to. I would."

"I. Yeah, I do," he says quickly, not wanting her to think that she was alone in this. "But like. Only if you're really sure."

"Oh, I am. At least. I think?" And she _had_ thought about it. Quite a lot, in fact. It was a virtually unknown topic for her, other than a college friend's story about a boyfriend who claimed it 'accidentally slipped' and her mom's unsolicited warning to 'never let anyone put anything back there'. It was dirty, according to her mother, but she had once told Stevie the same thing about oral and that had obviously turned out to be a lie. She was starting to think that maybe Mom wasn't the greatest source of advice on this subject.

The more she thought about it, the more curious she became until she decided- why the hell not? She trusted Lindsey. She was going to marry him someday, be the mother of his children someday, and she knew he'd sooner die than do anything that hurt her. He may not have had any experience with this either, but they would figure it out together and besides, there was something sort of romantic about the idea of having something that was only between them.

"Okay. But you...if you change your mind, we'll stop. I won't be pissed."

"I wouldn't say yes if I didn't trust you 100 percent, baby," she assures him.

He nods, trying to act more confident than he feels. "So...I mean, right now?"

"Unless you've got something better to do," she jokes. He hands over the joint so she can take one last hit and then she stubs it out in the ashtray, looking down at the well-worn couch. "Just...not here."

"Hold on," he warns, standing up with her arms and legs still wrapped around him. He carries her into the bedroom, pretending that he's going to drop her onto the mattress, and she shrieks with laughter as he sets her down on her feet.

"You jerk, I hate you!"

He scoffs. "No you don't."

"You're right, I don't. For now, at least..." She stretches out on the bed, propped up on her shoulders, and watches him standing there scratching his head nervously. "Come here?"

He sits down beside her and pauses like he's waiting for directions.

"Lindsey."

"Hmm?"

"My God. Just stop thinking and kiss me already."

He does as told, settling down halfway on top of her, and he can feel her heartbeat pounding underneath the thin cotton of the tank top she's wearing. It's fluttering faster than usual, reminding him of their first time sleeping together or when he held her tightly in his arms before their first performance as a duo, and he realizes that she needs him to take the lead on this even if she won't admit it. "I love you. I'm gonna make you feel amazing...remember how good that felt the other night?"

She murmurs her agreement into his mouth and he tugs at the hem of her shirt, breaking the kiss just long enough to pull it over her head because he knows the sensation of her nipples rubbing against his bare chest drives her crazy.

"Mmm. Linds," She giggles as he starts attacking her neck with kisses, the coarse hair of his beard tickling her smooth skin. "Careful. I can't show up to work again looking like I've been-"

"Well-fucked," he supplies. "Which you are."

"I don't have enough makeup to try hiding bite marks, and beard burn, and a giant hickey..."

"Then stop trying," he says, deliberately sucking hard enough to bruise just above her collarbone. "Let them see. That way they know you have someone giving it to you good at home." His head dips lower, tugging at one of her nipples with his teeth. "Right?"

"God. Yesss..." She sighs as he repeats the motion on the other nipple before soothing the sensitive little bud with his tongue. For someone who was so shy and awkward at conversation when they had first met, it hadn't taken long after they had started having sex for her to discover that he was really, really good at talking dirty to her.

"So I think I'm gonna start by eating you out, and maybe while I'm doing that, we'll see if you can take my fingers?" he asks in a low voice, brushing her hair back from her face. He could already feel her start to relax as they kissed, and he figured it'd be easier on her if she'd come first before before he tried to do anything more than finger her. She nods in approval and he kisses the tip of her nose. "You ready, angel?"

She nods again, pushing down the pair of his old boxers that she's been wearing (an unfortunate casualty of his first attempt to do laundry). He sits back on his knees and frowns before standing up and heading into the bathroom.

"What are you doing?" she calls out, confused as she listens to him rummaging around in the cabinet.

He emerges a moment later, holding a jar of Vaseline and shrugging. "You think...? I mean, hell if I know, but..."

"And you think I do?" she asks, both of their faces flushed pink, and she's once again relieved that he seems just as clueless as she is. But before she can say anything else, her eyes land on the bulge in the front of his jeans and she reaches up for his fly. "First, I think we need to take care of this." She pulls his pants down to his ankles and he steps out of them, kicking them onto the floor. He sits back down and she immediately takes him in her hand and starts stroking him. "Mmm. Much better."

She's a tiny bit intimidated, watching him like this, because she's reminded that he's not exactly small and she just isn't sure how this is going to work. But she had the same thoughts the first time they slept together- she wasn't a virgin, but he was definitely bigger than anyone she'd been with before- and _that_ had certainly turned out just fine.

He can sense her starting to get anxious again and so he puts his hand on her shoulder, urging her to lie back down. "You've gotta stop or I'll...and I wanna wait."

"And why's that?" she asks sweetly.

He settles down between her legs, the backs of his knuckles brushing her inner thigh. "Because I'm gonna come in your ass, pretty girl."

"Fuck, okay," she sighs, knees bent and planted flat on the mattress. "Although I really don't think you'd have a problem getting it up again..."

He laughs, grabbing a pillow and putting it underneath her so her hips are tilted at a better angle. "Relax, baby. Lemme take care of you."

She closes her eyes and lets one hand rest on the back of his head, petting his hair as he licks around her belly button. He kisses his way downward until he's nosing at the patch of dark blonde curls just above her pussy.

"Shit, you're so wet already, aren't you?" He breathes in her scent, exhaling little puffs of air onto her clit, and her nails scratch at his scalp. "Huh-uh, no touching. Play with your tits for me."

He watches as her tiny palms cover her breasts, whimpering to herself and pinching one of her nipples as he slowly rubs up and down her center. She had seemed so shocked the first time he asked her to do this, her whole body blushing bright red. Now she does it on her own just to get his attention. He'll be sitting on the floor with his guitar, absorbed in whatever he's working on, and he'll look over and see her on the couch with one hand inside her panties, waiting for him to notice. (And he always does).

He starts licking her in long strokes as soon as he can manage to look away for more than a second at a time, starting at the crease of her thigh and working his way inward. She tries to grab at his hair again but he bats her hand away. "Did I say you could stop?"

She settles for squeezing his head between her thighs so that he's trapped there, his tongue flicking at her clit while she keeps tugging at her nipples. He knows what she's doing just by the sounds she's making and he can't help reaching for his dick to take the edge off.

"Did _I_ say you could do _that_?" she asks before he can barely get his hand on himself. "I don't think so. Do what...you know. What you did the other night."

He lets go of his cock and reaches underneath her, fingers kneading her ass while he continues lapping at her pussy. When his thumbs start nearing her hole, he stops and looks up, his beard glistening with her juices. "Are you ready for...?"

"Yeah." She watches him open the jar of Vaseline and dip one finger inside until it's coated in the slick substance.

"Tell me if you want me to stop, okay? I won't-"

"I know, I know," she promises him, and his mouth is back on her center as he slowly lets his finger slip inside her. "You alright?"

"I'm alright, babe." It's not painful, just sort of a strange sensation, but then he starts moving it in and out and _oh_ , now it's starting to feel good.

Lindsey keeps licking up and down her slit, his cock pulsing as he imagines it taking the place of his finger. She's so incredibly tight, her muscles clenching around him, and he worries that he's gonna explode before he even gets close to fucking her.

She nods when he asks if she's ready for another, his middle digit sliding in a little slower than the first. He's still not quite sure what he's supposed to do, so he just mimics the motions he would normally make while he's fingering her, and her response makes him think he must be getting it right.

"O-oh. Oh my god." His lips are wrapped around her clit as his fingers gradually work their way deeper inside her. The discomfort subsides as her body adjusts, giving way to a feeling of fullness that intensifies what his tongue is doing, and she grabs the back of his head to hold him still as she fucks his face roughly. "I'm...oh _God_! Linds..."

He licks her through it, waiting until her body stills and then pressing one last long kiss to her center before he carefully pulls his fingers out of her. "Steph. Holy fuck."

She reaches for his hand to pull him in closer and kisses him, shivering when she tastes herself all over his mouth. "You're a mess."

"Can't help it," he says with a broad smile, nipping at her earlobe. "You're fucking dripping."

"Oh yeah?" She lets her fingertips trail over his chest and gets halfway down his abdomen before he grabs her arm and pins it over her head.

"I thought I told you no."

She shrugs one shoulder, acting innocent, but her eyes never leave his dick. "You just looked like you could use it."

"Well..." he says, trying not to act overly eager in case she changed her mind, "if you think you're ready to..."

"I am."

"You're sure? We don't have to."

"Lindsey," she says sternly.

"Okay, okay. I've got you, baby." Once again, he knows she needs him to take charge on this. She's the one making herself vulnerable, so he's gotta act confident in order to reassure her. "Lay on your side?"

"Like this?" she asks, rolling over and bending her knees so she's in a semi-fetal position.

"Perfect." It would be tempting to have her on all fours with that round little ass up in the air, his for the taking, but he knew he would have a hard time controlling himself if she was in that position and he didn't want this to be painful for her when she was trusting him this completely. Not to mention that he knew that if she liked it, she might let him do it again in the future.

He reaches for the jar of Vaseline and lubes himself up, feeling like he was 13 again and stealing his mom's hand lotion to jerk off with. That kid would pass out if he could look into the future to where he was now, he thinks, seeing himself in bed with a woman who was far beyond any of his wildest teenage fantasies.

She looks over her shoulder at him and smiles, but he can see the slight nervousness in her eyes, so he starts rubbing her back with his free hand to reassure her. "I've got you."

"Mmm," she murmurs, soothed by his words as he lies down behind her. He kisses the back of her neck, arm around her waist.

"We'll go slow, alright? Just tell me if you want to stop."

She nods and bites her cheek, waiting. "Ow! Oww. _Fuck_."

"Damnit. What do you want, baby?" he asks, the head of his dick barely inside her. He holds still except to rub her stomach, afraid that pulling out was going to be even more uncomfortable for her. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

She winced, trying to hide her reaction to the unfamiliar intrusion. The fingers had been uncomfortable at first, yeah, but this just flat-out hurt. Still, she was determined to keep going. "It's alright. Just...give me a second?"

"Anything," he promises, running his fingers through her hair soothingly.

She realizes she's been holding her breath and exhales, feeling herself relaxing as she does. "Okay. Keep going."

"You're so good, angel. So good." He rests his chin on her shoulder and slowly moves deeper inside her. She's so tight around his dick that _he's_ almost in pain, so he can imagine how she must be feeling.

The sting is beginning to subside as she gets used to the sensation and takes a few deep breaths. He stops moving again once he's fully inside her, one hand cupping her breast as he waits for her to decide she's ready for him to start moving again. "Linds?"

"Yeah? What's wrong?"

She reaches behind herself, squeezing his ass playfully. "Fuck me. C'mon."

"Oh right, right." He was so focused on trying not to blow his load that he had almost forgotten what he was supposed to do next.

"Babe...?" She's about to ask whether his dick is suddenly paralyzed when he starts moving, rocking his hips back and forth in a slow rhythm. He groans into her ear and she reaches for his hand to place it between her legs. "Ahh. Touch me."

He's worried that he doesn't have the brain capacity right now to do two things at once, but he's sure as hell going to try. "Is this...how does it feel?"

"You feel...ohh. Really fucking huge," she says, giggling and then hissing as the sudden movement makes her muscles tighten. "Damnit, don't make me laugh."

"I'm not trying to!" he complains, but he can't even pretend to be put out after a compliment like that. He _feels_ fucking huge with the way she's squeezing his cock, still so tight around him that he can barely move.

She pushes her ass toward him so that he slips deeper inside her, starting to enjoy the slight burn of his thrusts. Her entire lower body tingles with his every move, making her breath hitch and her heartbeat flutter like she's in a freefall, and the feeling of getting away with something slightly taboo only heightens the sensation.

"Shit. You love this, don't you?" She nods silently and he shakes his head. "No. Say it."

"I do. I love it."

"You're gonna show up to work tomorrow not being able to walk straight and everyone's gonna know what you've been doing."

" _Fuck_. Linds!"

"Oh, so _that's_ what does it for you," he says as she tightens around him, urging him to move faster. He's not complaining- he's always prided himself on being able to last long enough to get her off first, but his stamina is seriously being put to the test right now. "And I'm the only one who's ever had you like this."

"You are. Just you." She still has one hand between her thighs, spreading herself open to give him better access to her pussy. He's touching her everywhere he can reach, thumb rubbing her clit, and he pinches the swollen little bud between his fingers as her moans get louder. "Oh god, right there. Don't stop."

"C'mon, baby, you're so close. Want you to come for me." Ignoring her earlier warning, he tucks his face into the crook of her neck and starts sucking on her pulse point. She'll be annoyed with him the next day, and she won't believe him when he swears it was an accident, but he couldn't keep himself from biting down when she reached back and yanked on his hair as her whole body seized around him.

He fucks into her once, twice more, and then he's coming harder than he ever has in his entire goddamn life. "Jesus _fuck_...oh God, pretty girl. You're so good. So good."

"Mmm. Babe," she murmurs as she lets go of his head, at a loss for anything more than one-word sentences.

He tries to pull out gently, but she still flinches as the head of his cock slides out of her. "Shit, sorry. Do you want me to-"

"No. Stay here," she says, rolling over a bit stiffly and holding onto him so he couldn't get up. They were kind of a mess, to say nothing of the bedding, but she wasn't about to let him go.

He puts his arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him tightly. "Anything you want, angel."

"Love you." She closes her eyes, cheek resting on his chest right over his heart as she clings to him.

"Love you too. You alright?"

She nods, purring in approval as he plays with her hair. Sometimes things got so intense between them in those intimate moments that once it was over she felt strangely empty, like it was physically painful for her to not be as close to him as possible. She knew he probably thought she was being overdramatic, but he indulged her for as long as she needed and she loved him for it.

She loves him for a lot of reasons. Their life together isn't perfect by any means, but there's nowhere else she'd rather be and no one else she'd rather be with. She knows that plenty of people, their parents included, think they're slightly crazy. That whole 'we support you in anything you want to do, but why does it have to be _this_?' thing. And sometimes when it all seems hopeless and she's exhausted and sick of the constant fighting, she feels acutely lonely because she has no one to lean on. She wishes she could call her mom or even Robin and cry to them over the phone, but she's too stubborn to admit she's having doubts, so she'll lock herself in the bathroom and sob in the shower until Lindsey starts banging on the door and bitching about her using all the hot water.

But all of that is extra noise; the outside world getting in the way. When the externals fade into the background and it's only the two of them, the way they are right now, she knows she's making the right choice. Even if her life _would_ be easier had she chosen another path, she doesn't want easy. She wants him and she wants this life they're building together and there's nothing on earth that could ever make her change her mind. It might be a long shot, but as long as they have each other, she likes their odds.

"I should go get cleaned up," she says reluctantly, not moving.

He kisses her forehead. "Go for it. I'll be right here when you get back."

She stands up gingerly and heads for the bathroom, a definite hitch in her step.

"Steph? You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," she promises. "Just feels a little weird. Nothing a couple of aspirin won't cure."

She looks over her shoulder one more time, as if she's making sure he's still there, and he nods to her before she disappears through the doorway. Then he gets up and starts stripping the bed, cleaning himself off as best he can with a corner of the top sheet. He really needed to shower, but he knew Stevie would insist on coming with him, and despite her protests he could tell that she was sore and exhausted.

He dumps the bedding in an empty corner of the room, smiling as a picture on top of the dresser catches his eye. It was a photo of a little fluffy grey dog, a speech bubble drawn in ballpoint pen above its head reading 'I want to come home with Stevie!!'. She had cut it out of a magazine and put it there 'so you don't forget' about the puppy he had promised her they'd get as soon as they had a real house of their own. He wasn't really a fan of dogs, but he couldn't say no to her, not when just daydreaming about her future canine companion made her so happy.

Of course, that wasn't all that he had promised her they'd have someday. They had talked about getting married before they moved to LA, mainly to please their families, but then decided to hold off. They had vowed to 'be each other's everything' the night they first slept together and that was enough for them. Along the way, they'd come to the decision that they would wait until their career took off to tie the knot. They wanted it to be not just about them as a couple, but also about what they'd accomplished together (and a big middle finger to anyone who'd ever doubted them).

He knows that's still what she wants. He believes her when she says this is forever, ring or no ring. But sometimes he finds himself growing impatient. He wants it all and he just wants their future to start right away. He wants to know for certain that she's his, now and for always, and he wants them to be a real family. At times he's even secretly wished for an accident (he can't say mistake; their baby would never be a mistake). Yes, it would be awful timing and it wouldn't be easy, but they would figure it out the way their own parents had when they were young struggling newlyweds. Besides, their folks might be unwilling to fund their great L.A. adventure, but he knew neither of their families would let their grandchild go without. They would make it work somehow.

He's just finishing up remaking the bed when he sees her standing in the doorway watching him. She points toward the sheets that are balled up on the floor, frowning.

"I'll take care of it in the morning," he assures her.

"Nope," she says, taking off her robe and hanging it on the back of the door. "You're not doing laundry. We're sleeping in and then you're staying with me _all_ day." Now clad in only her underwear, she sees him watching her with a dopey smile on his face and puts her hands on her hips. "Yes?"

"Did I ever tell you how hot you are?"

"Hmm, you might have..." She bends down cautiously and crawls into bed next to him, lying down on her stomach with her head on his shoulder.

"D'ya think that once we get a new fan, we should start saving for an actual bed?"

"I dunno," she says, surprising him. "I kinda like this now that I've gotten used to it. We should just stay like this."

"So what happens when we get an actual house? We're still gonna sleep on the floor?"

"Maybe. At least until we're really old, like 60 or something, and our knees give out."

He laughs, then stops and sputters in shock as her hand starts wandering. "Christ, woman, what are you doing?"

"You wouldn't let me touch it before," she says, pouting playfully.

He reaches for her hand and kisses her palm. "Later."

"You'd better believe it," she promises, already planning on waking him up in a few hours with his dick in her mouth.

They kiss softly for several minutes, the light of a full moon shining down on them through the open window. "Mmm. You know what, angel?"

"What?"

"You were fuckin' amazing tonight. Well, always. But especially tonight."

"And you finally got to be my first," she points out with a sultry smile, knowing that taking her virginity had always been his not-so-secret fantasy.

"First and last?"

"Mmhmm. And only. My everything," she says, kissing him again.


End file.
